


A drunk mind speaks a sober heart

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson is a dork, Drunk friendly strangers, Espionage, F/M, Fancy clubs, Fluffyish, OTP is really really ridiculously good looking, Skye is funny, i have no explanation for this, undercover-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye and Coulson go undercover at a fancy nightclub. There is banter, alcohol, and odd, kindly drunks. Basically an ode to how attractive this ship is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A drunk mind speaks a sober heart

**Author's Note:**

> Real Talk: I debated heavily using an Uptown Funk quote as the title. Obviously: "I'm Too Hot (Hot Damn)" because I'm a massive dork and this story is basically an excuse to talk about how attractive our ship is. But I went with a Rousseau quote instead, because I'm classy, dammit. And I love writing drunks.

Skye smoothly took a seat next to Coulson at the darkened bar, not sparing him a look. After giving her order to the bartender (who _immediately_ came over to serve her--she had to smirk,) she spun her stool around to scope the place out. It was one of those fancy nightclubs that was hard to define; the crowd of twenty somethings who came for the young and dirty music, but the clean, classy vibe attracted an older business-y crowd.

It was a member of the latter group that they were looking for, someone with money to burn and a fondness for showing it off. Sensing that the bartender had returned, Skye spun back around, ‘accidentally’ knocking Coulson’s knee with her own.

“Sorry about that,” she said, turning on the charm. Coulson shrugged it off, and the bartender placed Skye’s drink in front of her. She tilted her head. “Get that for me?” Coulson nodded at the other man, and Skye let out a giggle as he walked away to help someone else. “You’re not a talker, are you?”

“You seemed to be having fun, didn’t want to ruin your moment.” He was biting back a smirk, and Skye ‘playfully’ punched him on the arm.

“I’m blending, Sir, you should give it a try.” Coulson snorted, and Skye’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, you’re blending alright.” He rotated his own seat towards her, allowing him to both move closer to Skye and get a view of the rest of the club.

Frowning a bit, Skye looked at her ensemble for the night. _What was that about?_ Maybe she went a bit too literal with the young socialite look; the purple dress that was both backless _and_ sparkly was certainly _flashy_. But it was right for the crowd, which oozed money and sex, and seriously, she was pretty sure 80 percent of the people there were going home to bang later. _Or in the bathroom_ , she observed, watching one couple disappear down the hall. No matter the prices, the clientele or the location, a bar was a bar after all. Some things never changed.

“Seen our mark?” Skye asked, noticing Coulson sit up straighter in his chair. She looked over to catch his eyeline and saw-- _Whoa_. “Well, you’ve certainly seen something.” The woman was tall, blonde, and totally making eyes at Coulson, who smiled politely in return. _Nerd_.

Coulson turned back to face Skye. “Just being friendly,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. Leaning toward her a bit, he took on a conspiratory tone. “Did Fitz get all the kinks worked out in the tracker?”

“Okay, first of all, say ‘kinks’ one more time,” Skye began, widening her eyes innocently at his frown. “Yeah, he figured it out,” she muttered when she realized he wouldn’t play along.

“Good,” the director/agent--What was his role again these days?--responded, looking around. Something caught his eye again, and Skye prepared herself for the blonde gazelle woman to make another cameo. But it wasn’t her. A young man approached, leaning on the counter on Skye’s other side. Looking down the bar, he saw the bartender talking to a group of women at the other end. He sighed, looking to Skye and Coulson with drunken exasperation. The man looked forward to face the bar again, but then did a comically slow double take.

“ _Whoa_ ,” he said, looking at Skye. She smiled. Friendly, but awkward. The guy was tall, kind of gangly with a mop of hair that was either red or brown, impossible to tell with the lighting. He was also basically doing a complete scan of her face at the moment, clearly not noticing how weird he was being.

_Must be in the ‘time does not exist’ plane of drunkenness._

“You're really pretty,” he said, not overtly creepy, but as if stating a fact. Skye quirked her mouth.

“Uh, thanks,” she said, laughing a bit.

“No, like,” he shook his head for emphasis. “You’re _really pretty._  Like, cosmically, out-of-this-world hot.”

Skye actually laughed at that--she had to, _this guy has no idea._

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Usually when random guys ask me that in bars, I’m not sure I like the question.”

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head more. He was wearing a tux, of all things, with the bow tie slightly undone. Wedding?

_Groom?_

“Can you get the bartender to come over here? I’m not his type apparently,” he gestured at the new group of women the bartender was chatting up. Skye supposed a man had to earn a living.

“Sure,” she said, figuring she could get this guy to grab his drink and bring his business elsewhere so she could get back to work. Next to her, Coulson hadn’t made a peep-- _Typical_ \--and she wondered if he was amused at the antics or annoyed by the distraction. Skye was a mix of both. Sure enough, the bartender magically appeared, getting another vodka soda for her (she had managed to stealthily drop the first one on the tray of a passing server,) and a whiskey for Mr. Friendly. Skye wasn’t sure he needed one, but hey, he may have been a newlywed?

“Cheers,” he said, raising his glass, and Skye obliged, but turned her head to look behind her. Coulson was still there at least, so if their target had appeared he hadn’t moved in. “Is this your boyfriend?” Drunky moved away from the bar, gesturing to Coulson.

Skye opened and closed her mouth like a fish for a second. _Um. Okay, don’t make it weird_. “Ah, yeah,” she said, faux apologetically. Coulson looked impassive for a second, but did that stupid ‘cool guy nod’ he was so fond of that evening. _Dork_.

Their new friend leaned closer, startling Coulson by clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Right on,” he said, shaking his head. “Right on, man.” He pointed at Coulson, smiling and chuckling as if to say ‘this guy right here.’ Skye was trying really hard not to laugh now, made even more difficult by the baffled and amused look on Coulson’s face.

_Where did this guy come from?_

Coulson, smiled awkwardly and looked at Skye, who shrugged. Tux guy began to back away. “Well, enjoy your evening,” he said, then turned to Skye, placing a hand on her shoulder now. “You. You’re beautiful, and like, perfect. If this guy ever moves to Russia, or you break up with him, or he gets hit by a bus or whatever could possibly cause him to leave you…”

“You’ll be the first person I call,” Skye told him seriously, and this time the finger point was directed at her.

“You’re funny,” he told her. “Right on.” He nodded at the two of them, then disappeared into the crowd.

_Like some weirdly happy, drunk spirit guide._

Skye turned to Coulson, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows. “So. That happened.” Unable to cope with it anymore, she started laughing. Coulson shook his head, smiling a bit.

“Where did he even go?” He asked, craning his neck to try to find their departed friend. “He just vanished, like a ghost from _Scooby-Doo_.” Skye cackled at that, shaking her head.

“You know, he could have been a lackey. I’ve played the happy-go-lucky drunk a few times in my day, it’s pretty disarming,” Skye wondered out loud, knowing it couldn’t be true. If she didn’t pick up on it, Coulson would have.

“Well, then he was pretty convincing,” Coulson replied, placing his drink (half full) on the bar behind him.

“I don’t know, the flattery was a little excessive,” Skye admitted. It wasn’t close to the usual drunken ‘compliments’ she had received, which were often aggressive and laden with expectations of gratitude, but he was laying it on thick.

Coulson didn’t say anything. Skye looked over at him. He shrugged. Feeling heat creep up her neck, Skye felt the need to say something.

“The ‘out of this world’ part was pretty funny,” she said, not pretending this time to sip her drink. After all, it had been a while. Their guy had to be a no show, right? She took another gulp. Coulson looked at her, and she wondered if the music got turned down a bit or if her hearing was muffled. _Because it seems quieter now, right?_

“It wasn’t inaccurate,” he said, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“No, it was not,” Skye agreed. “Oddly perceptive for a drunk, wouldn’t you say? Assuming he had no idea he was talking to, what are we calling me these days? Alien? Half alien? Half hereditary alien experiment with a bonus alien blood transfusion?” Across the bar, she saw the couple from earlier exit the hallway, looking impressively put together for people who were probably just banging in the ladies’ room. Definitely a classier brand of sloppy bar hookup. “Well, seems like this was a bust, our dude’s not showing his face. Wanna close up and get out of here?” She looked at Coulson, who appeared to have been watching the hallway couple as well. He looked back at Skye.

“We could stay for a little longer,” he said, shrugging his shoulders again. He’d picked up his drink in the meantime, and polished it off. Skye stared at him, incredulous.

“ _You_ want to stay. _Here_.” Not wanting to be too far behind, she took another sip of her own drink. She was tempted to push the straw to the side and toss it back, but the carbonation and vodka (not her favorite) were good for having a drink in her hand and being able to sip slowly while staying sober for the mission. Not good for drinking in one go. She either needed something way stronger or something with no booze, depending on where this was going.

“We’re already out,” Coulson replied. “And,” he tilted his head awkwardly, trailing off.

Skye was intrigued. “And?” Coulson sighed in frustration. Skye spun her chair to face him fully, which brought on another awkward head tilt. “Coulson?” _Is he malfunctioning?_

“We’re already out, and you, well, _you look_ ,” he was deliberately not looking at her now, but had turned his chair to face her as well.

_What is happening right now?_ Skye thought her eyebrows might disappear into her hairline. The former-ish SHIELD director finally looked at her, and she swore a static shock went through her. Not the actual, laundry-fresh-out-of-the-dryer/Lincoln kind of static, the Coulson kind. The kind she felt slightly every time she saw him, and in full force when he looked at her like this. _Did he ever look at me like this?_ Maybe to a degree, but it felt different this time.

Finally, Coulson rubbed a hand over his eyes and explained. “He took all the good adjectives,” he practically whined, and the frustration suddenly made sense. Skye covered her mouth, trying not to laugh at him. “Seriously, what good is it if I tell you you’re, you know, beautiful and perfect and ‘cosmically hot,’ if some drunk in a rented tux was able to say it the first time he saw you?”

It was funny, and also very sweet, so much so that Skye was having a hard time registering that Coulson was calling her beautiful.

“I mean, ‘ _cosmically, out-of-this-world hot_.’ That’s…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“Silly?” Skye offered.

“Insanely accurate,” he corrected her, seriously for once.  

Skye was never one to get hung up on her appearance. She knew, early on, she had a very distinctive face, one that both gave her somewhat comforting insight into her heritage and who her parents might be, and made her stand out among others. Considering where she spent her childhood, that was both a blessing and a curse. She knew, later, she grew up to be solidly attractive. She’d used it on occasion, when she needed to, but never wanted to depend on it. It wasn't about being conceited and thinking she was hot shit, Skye was just practical and not one to waste time falling all over herself to put herself down. She had gotten compliments that were genuine, resentful, aggressive and adoring about it basically her entire life.

So why did Phil Coulson re-purposing some tipsy stranger's line in a bar make her feel like she might just melt into a puddle onto the floor? Coulson, with his Superman jaw, and his crazy beautiful eyes, and that stupid hot suit he was wearing?

“You’re like, ridiculously sexy,” she blurted out, unfortunately during a rare quiet moment between songs. Acknowledging the laughs directed her way, Skye put a hand over her eyes. “Fuck.”

“Come on.” Feeling Coulson’s (warm, calloused, big) hand grab hers and help her off of her stool, Skye stood and followed him through the crowd. Placing his hand low on the small of her (bare, probably kind of sweaty) back, Coulson lead Skye up a couple stairs to a quieter spot away from the dance floor. They faced each other, his hand sliding off her her back in a way that made them both suck in a breath.

“So,” Skye said, crossing her arms and tapping her fingers nervously on her elbow. They had moved away from the weird pseudo-undercover setting of before, and, to be frank, shit was getting real. Coulson for his part looked slightly nervous too. He kept flexing the fingers of his right hand, and swallowing heavily. His brow furrowed slightly.

“You think I’m se--”

Skye didn’t let him finish that (embarrassing, accurate) thought, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pressing her lips against his. Coulson responded immediately, hands going directly to the skin of her back, running up to her shoulder blades and back down again. Pushing her up against the wall, mostly out of sight in their little alcove, Coulson kissed her furiously and Skye thought she might just stay there forever. Keeping one hand on his jaw Skye ran the other down his chest, skimming the chest hair that was visible through his unbuttoned collar.

That electric feeling had returned in full force, and had she not felt bits and pieces of it early on in their knowing each other, Skye might have thought that was her sensing the vibrations he was giving off. But no. To feel this, there were no powers required.

Feeling his tongue against the roof of her mouth, Skye groaned and moved her hand to his belt buckle.

“Hey, hey,” Coulson pulled away and Skye made a frustrated noise, but stopped. Catching his breath, Coulson moved his hands to cup her face. “Sorry.”

“That ‘sorry’ better be for stopping,” Skye murmured, but moved her hands back up to the safe zone of his chest. She could be considerate.

Coulson’s response was to lean in again and kiss her again, with less urgency but no less wow factor. _Or tongue_. That was an interesting thing she learned about him this evening.

“It was,” he told her after, stepping back a bit. Until he moved away, Skye hadn’t realized that his entire body had been pressed against hers. She missed it. “But I also don’t think we should do this here.”

“It’s clean,” Skye said, understanding full well what he meant. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun. “Seriously, did you see the staff go into the bathroom _right_ after that couple left? They probably scrub every surface of this place a hundred times a night.”

“Be that as it may,” Coulson said, smiling at her fondly. “I think we should finish this _conversation_ elsewhere.”

“Talk, talk, talk, that’s all you men want to do,” Skye said, sighing dramatically. “Fine,” she told his stupid cute face, planting one last chaste kiss on his lips. “Let’s get out of here.”

“ _Right on_ ,” Coulson said, nodding, and Skye elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh god,” she said, and he chuckled. “What did I just sign up for?”

But then he smiled at her, and his eyes did that little twinkly thing they always seemed to do when they were together, and she knew exactly what she was getting into.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly not sure where this came from. One of two ideas that hit me today, I was going to connect them into a "Three Times" fic but couldn't think of a third. Will post the second one tomorrow, if I can think of a third I'll connect em.


End file.
